I'm no ostrich

Let me just say that my head is not in the sand - I know this is not the safest place in the world.

My new best friend, the BBC World Service, told me after I woke up this morning that a candidate in Sunday's parliamentary elections was taken from his house in Helmand province and shot. Abdul Hadi is the seventh candidate to be killed by anti-government forces.

(This is obviously a tragedy. The perspective is that there are almost 5800 brave candidates standing, may they stay safe in the next few days and beyond.)

This horrible news has spurred me to clarify my last post. I'm not advocating tourists start flooding into Afghanistan because I have "declared" it safe to do so. All I've been writing about is my limited experience walking around the most heavily guarded city in the country. I realise there are groups and individuals with more courage than me who are better placed to comment on the security situation, especially outside Kabul.

Despite the security bubble surrounding Kabul there are worried people in this city, however.

One such comment came during my time spent yesterday at Tolo, the popular Afghan TV station. It may be that this is a special case however - Tolo often exposes corruption (like last night's program on a Supreme Court judge) and has therefore made itself a target.

I asked a presenter who graciously translated for me how his job had changed his life. He said he was "very scared". He was driven to work each day and could not go shopping (though he contradicted this immediately and said he still would). He agreed it was a very scary time with the elections looming.

Yesterday was my first full day alone, without my friend Tariq to guide me. I wasn't too worried about it beforehand and, as I thought, I was fine (apart from a few things lost in translation).

My first taxi ride was a little eventful. I told the driver I wanted to go to UNHCR's office in Shar-E-Naw district in the city's centre (cost: $US2). After stopping to ask an English-speaking security guard for directions we headed off again - but in the wrong direction. The exasperated driver pulled up outside an ISAF (International Security Assistance Force - an international coalition of peacekeepers) base where he pleaded for help from armed guards.

He gestured back at me during his explanation in Dari and then threw up his hand in disgust. I imagined him saying: "This foreigner says he wants to go to Shar-E-Naw, then some other place. Now he tells me he wants to go back to Shar-E-Naw. If I don't get any help then Allah knows where he'll want to go to next!"

To cut a long story short we got the right directions and I arrived early. I tried to thank him and apologise, giving him $US2.40 for his troubles, but he just looked pained and bemused.

The UNHCR took me to a poor district in Western Kabul. Apparently the organisation's security adviser wanted us to take an armoured car but my translater told him it would be ridiculous: "We are staying in Kabul," he said incredulously. Still the driver advised me to lock my door after we turned into a narrow laneway little bigger than the four-wheel drive itself, even though all I could see outside were girls and boys heading to school and placid-looking men on their haunches outside shops.

(The original plan was to go north of Kabul to the Shamali Plains but that idea was vetoed by the security advister).

Later in the day I went to a busy street corner in the hope of filming cars and vans pasted with posters spruiking their parliamentary candidate, with loudspeakers on top of the vehicles filling the street with their message. Rather than arrogantly setting up my video camera I approached the local traffic cop. The phone card seller who spoke a little English told me not to even bother asking: "Just film! No problem!"

Then the moustachioed director of traffic revealed his outgoing side, striding confidently between the cars to a point roughly in the centre of my shot. Then he started his show. Any rugby referee would have been proud of the way the pea in his whistle was abused; his exaggerated arm movements wouldn't have been out of place in a Moscow ballet. The soldier who was with him walked over and looked at his colleague's performance in the viewfinder, which left him in fits of giggles.

For the record my taxi ride home cost $US1 (Or "Yak dollaarrrr").

Human Rights Watch says there has been widespread intimidation of candidates, their supporters and voters themselves leading up to Sunday's poll. The one thing that may counter this is that it is a secret ballot.

One poor Afghan living in the city's west, who had been back from Iran for a year, told me that many of those standing for election were corrupt. They were only out for themselves, he said. He would not reveal who he was voting for but, by crikey, he was going to have his say (which was nice to hear after so much negativity).

"I have been looking very closely at the pictures of the candidates and I will be voting for the one with the smallest pockets," he said impishly.

POSTSCRIPT: My strength is fading and I fear I'm getting sick. I went out this morning and bought naan, some chips and water. I fear the water was contaminated. This has left me exhausted, headachy, and with a churning stomach. I hope this doesn't mean I'm laid up for a few days. I must go now and try to find some panadal (it's funny, I have just about every medication on the planet except panadol...)

Posted
by David WilliamsSeptember 17, 2005 12:42 AM

LATEST COMMENTS

Hi David,
So enjoyed your writings - a balanced view without the emotional hype.
You truely show the 'Kiwi Can' attitude. Just wish there was more of us in this world.
Get well soon - maybe look out for the smaller bad guys just a much as the bigger ones! look forward to more. Anita